


I Think Too Much

by floriwatch



Series: Yu-gi-oh Oneshots (lol) [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, kind of a character study I guess, reader is only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27489481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floriwatch/pseuds/floriwatch
Summary: It had been years since the events that had tormented him in high school. He'd worked hard to get where he was now, to feel normal again. Somedays, it was easy. Today... wasn't.(Essentially an exploration of Bakura Ryou's psyche a few years after the events of the series.)
Relationships: Bakura Ryou/Reader
Series: Yu-gi-oh Oneshots (lol) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010121
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	I Think Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't been doing great so I thought I'd binge Yu-gi-oh for nostalgia purposes. Noticed that a lot of Bakura's fics are very depressing and wanted to write something sweet and fluffy. Despite my wishes, I ended up writing this venting fic instead. Hooray...

He thinks you’d like him.

Ryou had many insecurities and he felt lucky that he couldn’t count you as one of them. Still, when he thought about it,  _ really  _ thought about it, it always surprised him how well he could imagine the two of you getting along.

You and his other self, that is.

He couldn’t say where the thought came from. Admittedly, he thought he had moved on from that part of his life years ago. But still, sometimes when he lie awake at night, his mind would drift to those events way back in his high school years. He’d mourn them. He’d relish them. He’d wonder what he couldn’t remember. His memories never 100% came back, after all.

But through all the pain and torture those years were, he remembered a few things very vividly. He remembered his friends saving him countless times. He remembered every time he’d awoken in a strange place with no understanding how he got there. And he remembered Yami Bakura.

The Yami Bakura that existed in the outer world had been an entity that Ryou never interacted with. From what he heard, he was cruel, sneaky, and a puppet master. His high school friends never knew when Ryou had been himself or when it had been Yami the entire time. The evil spirit had been that good. 

But Ryou did remember the room in his mind. It took a few years and some therapy, but he could now remember that place vividly. It was where he was sent when he wasn’t in control, and it was where Yami would be when he wasn’t in control either. 

Ryou could still go there if he wanted. He could close his eyes and focus and be there with little trouble. It was a small room with dark wood floors and stucco walls. The scent of lavender and sage wafted in the air and art supplies were strewn about. The more he thought about it, the more he figured that it must be a room from a childhood home of his. It held that sort of distant familiarity that only blurry memories of forgotten happiness could.

Back then, when he spent days at a time in there, he often drew or made models. He liked artistic things like that, and on occasion, Yami would join him. 

Yami was often volatile and mean. He’d yell and break things when something had gone poorly and he never wanted to actually talk about it. He’d pick on Ryou for being soft and ‘too nice’ and smear paint on Ryou’s clothes when Ryou dared to talk back. 

But Yami had also picked him up off the ground and brushed him off too many times to count. He’d sit with Ryou and paint figurines and let Ryou draw him for hours. Yami would tell him about Egypt and revenge plots and weird things he noticed about modern day Japan. 

It was a sure thing that, whenever Yami visited him in his room, there was going to be chaos, but there was also going to be good company. In his therapy sessions, he’d learned that this had been an incredibly toxic relationship. An obvious conclusion to come to considering the circumstances, but at the time it was all he had. 

Ryou felt so lonely then. Before, during, and after Yami. He still sometimes did. The loneliness would eat away at him and cause him to break down. Years of death and abuse did that to a person. But Ryou did his best to pull through. He wasn’t alone anymore, after all.

He could no longer lie to himself and say he had no friends. That the people around him would drop him the instant they could if they didn’t feel so bad for him. Yugi, Joey, Tristan, and Tea had worked with him on that though. They were patient and supportive when he needed it, and assuaged his fears when they became too much.

And then there was you.

The two of you were… close. He’d admit to that much. He felt like he could tell you anything. The two of you spent many a night on his couch, his head in your lap, as the two of you chatted about anything and everything. 

He’d told you everything about Yami one night after a few too many glasses of wine. You were carding your fingers through his hair while he regald his teen years with a regretful fervor. You listened to him carefully, giving him the space he needed yet staying ever so solid with him the entire time.

Ryou had fallen for you that night. You were his rock. An inscrutable piece of his new life shining forward like a gold thread in a rotten tapestry. 

He told you everything from then on. Especially everything about his other self. He appreciated your reactions, your jokes, when it was appropriate. You knew when to ask him questions too. Like, what Yami looked like. It took Ryou a long time to answer that one.

Yami never had a face per say. Ryou couldn’t tell you what he looked like. The best he could do was describe him as himself, but… darker. When he attempted to convey this to you, it was a blundering mess of a conversation. Your response had baffled him. 

“So... handsome, but intimidating.” You said. He cracked up at that. You thought that he was handsome? That’s what he took from that. It was a nice thought. 

He got the impression that, if Yami were still around, you wouldn’t fall victim to him like the others did. He knew the others did their best for a group of kids saving the world, but sometimes he wished they had been harsher. 

Once, when he had told you about one of the many times his other half had duped his friends, you had immediately responded with:

“Ryou, I care about you deeply, but if I had been there I would have given you a black eye.” 

After he recovered from the giggling fit that that statement had spurred on, he thought rather solidly about what would have happened if you  _ were  _ there. Maybe things  _ would  _ have been different. You could have reigned Yami in. Held him back or stopped him entirely.

Yami wouldn’t have liked that. He killed those he found a nuisance and systematically destroyed the lives of others who did less than that. But he also made it a point to never harm those around Ryou. He’d use them as pawns, yes, but he never hurt Ryou’s friends unless they were truly in the way. And because Ryou really cared about you, maybe Yami would let you be. 

Or maybe he would have taken to you like Ryou did. Yami loved playing games. He enjoyed manipulating and toying with people, and while Ryou’s friends were petulant bleeding hearted sobs, you weren’t. And being able to get a rise out of you would have been extremely entertaining for him. 

Ryou could picture it as if it really happened. As if it was something he himself did. Yami would follow you around, playing his usual act as the innocent and sweet Ryou, only to switch as soon as you let your guard down. He’d set traps and ambushes, send unwitting underlings and presents just to see you squirm. 

It would have been just as dangerous as his own relationship, but Yami would have definitely liked you.

And he could see you liking him too, in a twisted way. 

You’d like the challenge. Thwarting Yami and chasing him. Sassing him and shutting him down. You fit in with the thrill of that kind of story. Sardonic enemies to passionate lovers. It made a bitter sensation bubble in the back of Ryou’s throat whenever he thought about it. 

He tried not to think about it though, and he rarely did, but sometimes when he was feeling particularly insecure the thoughts would surface. Tonight was such a night. 

He’d run into you at a bar, or seen you rather. He wasn’t sure why you were there, but the way you glowed in the low light and the way your smile shone had enticed him forward to you. 

He was tipsy, and before he could get into your line of sight, he had fallen well into eavesdropping distance. Ryou hadn’t meant to overhear, but you were clearly tipsy yourself and rather loudly shouting over the music. 

You had been shouting about him. 

He hadn’t heard what the question had been, but your answer had been adamant. You gushed over how beautiful and kind he was. How much you trusted him. You called him one of your closest friends. 

He’d run out of the bar after that. 

It felt ridiculous, running out of the bar like some betrayed drama queen. But now he was here, sprawled on his bed, nude and sobbing. Ryou had chugged half a bottle of wine when he got home, and spilt the other half all over his clothes and kitchen floor. He could clean it up tomorrow. 

He was in love with you, but too cowardly to confess. And it was possible that you just thought of him as a friend. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t blame you, your feelings were your own. It wasn’t your fault if you didn’t like him like that, but it still hurt. 

And then there was the idea that you did like him romantically and that he had overreacted, which hurt almost as much. Because that made him feel crazy and irrational and what if the years of therapy and medications were for nothing. What if he was broken and couldn’t be fixed? Nobody wants broken goods. And you deserved so much better.

Ryou sucked in a shaky breath, tears streaming down his face. He needed to calm down and breathe. He began counting down from ten, trying to ground himself, and when that didn’t work he tried narrating the room.

After what felt like hours of looking around and describing things aloud, Ryou finally felt stable enough to sit up. The room wobbled as he did and Ryou figured he was probably drunk.

His skin was sticky from the drying wine and tears, his hair knotted and matted from the wind. He was a mess, in more ways than one. But he needed to clean up. A quick rinse in the shower would do him good and brushing his hair was another good way to calm himself.

As Ryou forced himself to his bathroom, he made a mental checklist.

Things I Must Do Tomorrow

  1. Clean up the wine in the kitchen.
  2. Do the laundry.
  3. Go grocery shopping.
  4. Ask you to dinner.



He’d read somewhere that if you wrote something down, you were more likely to do it. So, he decided he’d write it down after his shower. But, right now, he needed to take care of himself. And so, he did.


End file.
